


Like Ivy On Stone

by stevie23



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post Season 4, Smut, a teeny tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:45:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevie23/pseuds/stevie23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'It starts slowly, so slowly that Arthur doesn’t realise it until it is too late to change what has happened. It creeps up on him, much like ivy creeps across the stone of Camelot’s castle.'</p>
<p>After his wedding, Arthur begins to realise that Merlin is the one he wanted all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Ivy On Stone

**Author's Note:**

> For Brolinskeep over at tumblr, who gave the prompt.
> 
> A huge thank you to Katie for the wonderful Beta-ing.

It starts slowly, so slowly that Arthur doesn’t realise it until it is too late to change what has happened. It creeps up on him, much like ivy creeps across the stone of Camelot’s castle. Of _his_ castle, for Arthur is King now, no longer a Prince. He carries the weight of Camelot on his shoulders, and it is a weight he is proud to bear.

\- - - -

_Week one_

Arthur believes himself to be happy.

He wears the crown of the King of Camelot.

He has men, women, and children loyal to him, and only him – his Knights, Merlin, the Maids and the Servants, even people from far away villages whom Arthur hasn’t yet met, and despite this he has their infallible loyalty.

 Guinevere is his wife. It is she who warms his bed at night, she who sits by his side at the feast held the evening after his wedding, she whom he talks to over breakfast and lunch and supper. She wears the crown of the Queen of Camelot. She will bear his heirs and they will create a family. They will rule over Camelot together, and make it a better place.

They will be fair and just leaders.

Yes, there are still things which need to be resolved. Morgana must be dealt with, for one, but that can wait, for a little while.

\- - - - -

_Week two_

“Merlin!” Arthur’s voice startles Merlin, and in his haste to turn around, he knocks a jug to the floor. Arthur snorts quietly to himself. _It seems Merlin will never change._

Merlin sighs and bends down in order to pick up the jug. He untucks a cloth from his belt and wipes the mess on the floor up, once again wishing magic was legal, and he could make his job a million times easier. “Yes, Sire?”

“You don’t appear to be around much anymore _Mer_ lin, which is odd, considering you’re my manservant, and, as suggested by your title, supposed to _serve_ me. Have you been sneaking off to see a _girl,_ Merlin?” Arthur is as arrogant as ever, perhaps more so than when he was Prince. Sometimes Merlin is disgusted by himself for finding it endearing.

“No, Sire. I thought it best not to _disturb_ you, should you and Guinevere be doing anything, ahem, _private_ that you do not wish to be interrupted.” Merlin keeps his eyes trained on the ground, feeling a blush bleed up his chest, over his collar and up his neck, at the thought of catching Arthur and Gwen doing anything of the sort, alongside the customary spike of _angerpainjealousyjealousyminepaindestinylovelovelove_ Merlin always gets when thinking of Arthur. “If that is all for today, Sire? There are things I must attend to for Gaius. He is too old to be walking around the woods on his own, and I told him I would collect some herbs,”

Arthur nods once, slowly, and Merlin has barely heard the words “Yes, that will be all,” fall from the Kings lips before he crosses the threshold of the room, letting the door slam behind him.

\- - - - -

_Week four_

“Admit it,” Leon pants, parrying Arthur strikes with his own sword, “You miss him.”

“Who?” Arthur dives to the left, blocking Leon’s sword as it is thrust towards him “My father? Of course I miss him. He was my father, after all. I mean, I’m not saying that _all_ of his ideologies were true but-“

Arthurs distracted rambling gives Leon the split second of time he needs to have Arthur on his back on the floor, the tip of Leon’s sword resting lightly on his neck. “Not your father, Sire. Your manservant, Merlin. Tends to wear a neckerchief and make a general fool of himself. Ringing any bells?”

“Ah... him.  No no, I don’t miss him at all.” Arthur looks up at Leon, a slightly bewildered expression on his face, “You beat me. How did you beat me? You don’t usually overpower me. How did that happen?”

“You had a bad day; it happens to the best of us,” Leon grunts as he hauls Arthur up, “You should tell him, you know. He’d make an effort to come and see you, if that’s what you want. Hell, that kid’d try and move the moon and the stars if it would make you happy,” Arthur knows it’s true; has seen with his own eyes. Merlin would do anything for him, for Camelot. It would be nothing for him to come and visit Arthur each day, but Arthur doesn’t want Merlin to be forced into coming and seeing him. He wants Merlin to _want_ to see Arthur, and isn’t that a strange feeling? “All I’m saying, Sire, is that if you miss Merlin, _which you do,_ you should tell him.”

As Leon walks off, Arthur stares after him and shouts “I DON’T MISS MERLIN!” but his words sound like lies, even to him.

They _are_ lies. Of course Arthur misses his idiot servant _, with his big ears and blue eyes and tantalising cheekbones_. He misses the way the idiot used to wake him, and the noises he made when doing chores that any other servant would do silently. _He misses the way Merlin’s fingers used to dance along his skin as he dressed Arthur._ He missed that huge, idiotic smile that Merlin wore at all times, even while in the stocks.

Most of all he missed _Merlin._ The friendship they used to have, before Uther died and Arthur was crowned. _Before Gwen,_ Arthurs mind whispers, but Arthur stops that thought before it can go any further. Why should Gwen becoming Queen affect the bond between him and his friend?

\- - - - -

_Week five_

_Arthur licks up Merlin’s spine, tasting the sweat gathered at the base of his neck, tightens his fingers on Merlin’s, knowing it’s going to leave marks, loving that Merlin’s going to have a physical reminder of Arthur, finger marks on his skin that join the kisses Arthur had sucked into the joint between Merlin’s shoulder and neck earlier, before they had reached the bed._

_Merlin’s knuckles are white where his fingers are clenched around Arthur’s headboard as he thrusts back again Arthur, his hole tight around Arthurs cock, a litany of Arthurs name and “yes ... fuck ... fuck yes” falling from his lips._

_Arthur can feel his orgasm gather at the bottom of his spine, the white hot heat and the tightening of his balls which tells him he’s going to come, and soon. “Merlin,” he pants wetly against the skin between Merlin’s shoulder blades, “Gonna come ... gonna- come for me Merlin. Come for me,”_

_Merlin unclenches one of his hands, reaches for his cock, jacking himself in time to Arthur trusts, gasping as Arthur’s thrusts become faster and harder. Arthur gets no warning before Merlin’s back arches as he spills over his own fist, he hole spasming and clenching impossibly tighter around Arthur. Arthurs orgasm follows, his head thrown back, biting his lip to hold in a scream as he comes harder than he can remember coming before, spilling himself in Merlin._

_They collapse boneless on top of the sheets, Merlin’s head resting in the crook of Arthur neck, their legs tangling together, and Arthur feels content as he falls asleep._

Arthur gasps awake, with sticky sheets, his erection throbbing between his legs and the feeling of shame thick in his throat, again. He hasn’t had a wet dream since he was 18, and none as explicit as this, yet for the last week, every night he’s woken up with a hard on over a man whom he’s never thought of in _that_ way, before now.

Not all of his dreams are about having sex with Merlin. A couple, yes, but not all. Some have been normal, friendly. Merlin and he bantering as they used to, Merlin helping him dress for a tournament. The look on Merlin’s face that gave Arthur butterflies, the one that Merlin wore when he was proud of Arthur. No matter the innocence of the dream, however, Arthur wakes in exactly the state he did today.

He’s just glad that Guinevere either hasn’t noticed, or is too shy to say anything about it.

\- - - - -

_Week seven_

It’s all _wrong,_ Arthur thinks, as he wraps his arms around his Queen in the dim light of the fire. He loves Gwen, and he wouldn’t have married her if he didn’t. He’s just not sure anymore if it’s the type of love he thought it was. Holding Gwen doesn’t feel right anymore. Before the wedding, and even for a couple of weeks after it, Arthur had been happy holding Guinevere close. He had liked the scent of her hair and skin, how soft her hands were where the rested on his hips. He enjoyed the closeness, the way Guinevere’s breathing evened out as she fell asleep, the snuffling noises she made when she was asleep, how her grip on him tightened when he moved away slightly during the night.

Not anymore. She’s feels too small in his arms, not strong enough. Guinevere has too many soft curves; her breasts, her hips, the softness of her stomach. Her hair’s too long, too curly, too thick. She smells wrong. She smells nice, but too sweet, too summery. Her hands are too small, the fingers too delicate and the nails too rounded.

Arthur doesn’t want it.

Arthur wants Merlin, with his ridiculously long arms and legs, and the lean muscle Arthur knows _must_ be there, despite having no proof. Arthur wants the sharp angle of Merlin’s hipbones and knobbly knees and bony ankles digging against him as Merlin moves around in his sleep. Arthur wants to run his hand across Merlin’s stomach and feel the muscles flutter under his touch. He wants Merlin’s stupid, _stupid_ hair to tickle his nose where it rests on Merlin’s neck, and he wants to laugh himself silly at the state of Merlin’s hair when he wakes up.

Arthur wants to rest his chin on Merlin’s shoulder and inhale _Merlin._ The way Merlin always smells a little like the forest, from living with Gaius, and a little like mint, from god knows what. He wants to watch the firelight dance across the hollow of Merlin’s collarbones and along his cheekbones.

Arthur wants to tangle his fingers with Merlin, fill the spaces between Merlin’s long, skinny fingers with his own, slightly larger ones. He wants to wrap his hand around Merlin’s stupidly girly wrists and tell him that _you need to take better care or yourself, damnit._

Arthur wants to watch Merlin as he sleeps, however creepy that may sound. He wants to see Merlin’s lips flutter as he inhales and exhales, and the way his long eyelashes rest on his cheeks when his eyes are closed, and the colour of his eyelids.

He wants to laugh with Merlin, and smile with Merlin and have breakfast, and lunch, and supper with Merlin. Arthur wants to go to sleep lying next to Merlin and wake up wrapped around Merlin. He wants Merlin to sit next to him, instead of serving him, at feasts. He wants Merlin to give him advice on how to be a kind King. He wants Merlin to wear an identical crown to his, to be his King, by his side, at all times.

He wants Merlin to be _his._

\- - - - -

_Week eight_

“Fuuuuuck,” Arthur groans, palming himself through his breeches. 

Merlin had been in his bedchambers for less than five minutes, simply to drop off Arthurs breakfast, and Arthur had gotten hard the second he’d stepped foot in the room. It was _embarrassing._ Arthur was lucky Gwen had woken early and gone to the market; it would have been slightly awkward to explain to his _wife_ why he’d gotten an erection over someone other than her. Arthur also doubts Merlin would have entered his bedchambers if Guinevere had been present too, and so he guesses he is grateful for his wife’s early bird habits for more than one reason. Today was the first day Arthur’s seen Merlin in the flesh, in almost 2 weeks.

Unfortunately, he had to send Merlin away rather quickly, lest Merlin noticed the (not so) little problem he’d caused Arthur. Arthur isn’t an idiot. He’d noticed the hurt expression that crossed Merlin’s face when Arthur had dismissed him. Of course Arthur had noticed; it had given him stupid _butterflies_ of all things, like he was a lovesick _girl_ whose crush had noticed her at last. Arthur doubts the expression means what he wants it to mean. Arthur _wants_ it to mean that Merlin misses him as much as he misses Merlin, and that Merlin might return some of his feelings, but Arthur also knows it unlikely. He’s never seen any indication that Merlin even _likes_ men, and although, in all fairness, there has never been any indication that Merlin likes _anyone_ Arthurs not about to make a move and get rejected, because that would be mortifying if the King were to be rejected by a mere manservant.

And besides, Arthur is _married_ , to a wonderful woman whom he loves, although, admittedly, not in the way he thought he did. He certainly never got _this_ hard, _this_ quickly over Guinevere.

Arthur hurriedly unlaces his trousers, yanking them down the second he’s done, breathing a sigh of relief the second his prick is free and wrapping a hand around the base of it. Arthur breathes through his nose as he grips his cock and starts stroking, swiping his thumb over the slit and spreading the precome gathered there on a downstroke, trying to make as little sound as possible.

_Merlin with his pretty lips wrapped around Arthurs cock, pupils dilated with lust, hair sticking to his clammy forehead, looking up at Arthur through his eyelashes,_

Arthur tugs harder at his cock at the image, spitting onto his palm and slicking his cock further. He moves his left hand between his legs and tugs on his balls, but it’s not enough, never enough, so he leaves his balls alone, and sucks one of his fingers into his mouth, briefly, and runs his hand down his body, gasping as he pinches a nipple on the way down. Arthur trails his finger behind his balls, across his perineum and teases at his hole.

_Merlin arching under Arthur as Arthur thrusts into him, gripping Arthur’s shoulders hold enough to leave bruises, surging up to slip his tongue into Arthur’s mouth._

Arthur presses inside, just past the rim and slows down the hand on his cock. He wants this to last, wants to be able to look back and remember every second. Arthur presses his finger in further, feeling himself clench around himself, imagining it’s Merlin tight heat clenching around his fingers, not his own hole. Wonders what Merlin would feel like around him, desperate and begging. He slips another finger in alongside the first, groaning through his teeth at the burn of being stretched, and tightening his hand around the base of his prick to stop himself from coming as he bumps his prostate.

_Arthur looking up at Merlin as Merlin rides him, hard and fast and dirty, one hand using the headboard for leverage, the other stripping his cock with quick jerks in time to the movement of his hips._

Arthur knows he’s not going to last much longer, so he speeds up, both the hand on his cock and the fingers in his arse until the burn of arousal becomes blinding and he comes, back bowing off of the bed, toes curling into the covers and a drawn out moan that sounds suspiciously like Merlin’s name forcing its way out through his teeth.

\- - - - -

_Week ten_

Arthur’s not sure why he’s even considering it, apart from that Merlin apparently makes him lose any sense of control and normality he’s ever possessed. It’s a terrible idea, attempting to _seduce_ Merlin.  A completely preposterous one. But he is. Attempting the seduce Merlin, that is. Attempting being the operative word in that sentence. If Arthur is entirely honest with himself, he has no clue what he’s doing.

He doesn’t know how to _woo_ someone. No one he’s ever had his eye on has needed seducing or wooing or anything of the sort. Arthur is the King of Camelot, formerly the Crown Prince of Camelot. He had women – and men – practically lining up to court him, to fuck him for him to fuck them. No effort was needed, at least on his part.

This isn’t some random though. This is _Merlin._ It’s different; _he’s_ different. __

If he’s going to do this, Arthur’s going to have to do it right.

Unfortunately, that means paying a visit to a certain Knight.

\- - - - -

“You’d like me to _what_?” Gwaine looks incredulous, and Arthur doesn’t blame him. It’s not every day Gwaine gets kidnapped by a King who wants his help with romancing their manservant, and if this _is_ a common occurrence then Arthur has severely misjudged Gwaine and the debacle that is evidently his life.

Gwaine, the absolute _bastard,_ looks like he’s torn between laughing himself silly, and punching Arthur in the face. Arthur’s not sure which he’d prefer.

 Arthur is also regretting ever, _ever_ asking Gwaine for help. He should have just tried it without any planning before. Or _not_ seduced Merlin. That’s probably what he should be doing, instead of getting tips on the way to ‘seduce with success’ from the one Knight that’s only in Camelot for Merlin, and has never really had too much loyalty to Arthur.

“I would greatly appreciate it,” Arthur bites out, “If you would offer me your assistance in flirting with Merlin.” Gwaine just raises his eyebrow sardonically. “Please.”

“And why, oh mighty King Arthur, would I _possibly_ want to do that? Guinevere’s a dear friend of mine. I wouldn’t possibly want to be accused of helping you be unfaithful to her, now would I?”

And that’s like a kick in the stomach to Arthur, because he’s thought about it, of course he has. It isn’t fair on Guinevere, wouldn’t be fair if Arthur were to have any kind of relationship with Merlin. But is what Arthur’s doing at the moment fair? Spending every minute that he is around her wishing she was Merlin. Is that fair?

Arthur doesn’t know.

The truth of the matter is that he _needs_ Guinevere; needs her to provide an heir to carry on the Pendragon name. He just doesn’t want her. Not as much as he wants Merlin.

Realising Gwaine is looking at him expectantly, Arthur blurts, “I... would discuss it with the Queen. Nothing would happen between Merlin and me, if he is interested, without me discussing it with her first. She would need to be accepting,”

“So, what? You would want Merlin to be your dirty little secret from everyone but her?!” Gwaine quickly looks mighty pissed off, and Arthur hastens to elaborate before Gwaine can get any more riled up.

“NO! No, not my dirty little secret... just my... my... bit on the side?” _Damn._ Arthur stutters to a stop, knowing there is nothing he could add to the end of that sentence to make it sound any more decent. Gwaine has evidently realised that too, because he sends Arthur a glare, before opening his mouth and talking at Arthur at a volume just below shouting.

“Why now, Arthur? Why not _before_ the wedding, when you were _single_? What are you hoping to _gain_ from this?” Arthur opens his mouth to say something, _anything_ in his defence, but Gwaine cuts across him before he can speak, “Are you trying to get back at him for something? Something he did wrong, by embarrassing him and making him feel like shit? ‘Cause that’s what you’re going to do, you realise. If you flirt with him, attempt to seduce him or whatever you’d like to call it, he’s going to be _even more_ heartbroken than he is now. So, King Arthur, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll be off now, and _no,_ I will not help you on this train wreck of an idea you’re currently fixating on.”

Arthur watches Gwaine go in a detached sort of way, and realises two things;

1)      If he wants to do anything about this infatuation with Merlin, he’ll have to do it himself.

2)      Merlin likes him. Gwaine said that Merlin would be ‘even more heartbroken’ which means he’s heartbroken _now,_ which means he likes Arthur.

Feeling certain that he’s grinning likes a lovesick fool, Arthur stares down at the table he and Gwaine were occupying, wondering at the fact that Merlin returns his feelings, and that he’s not bothered by the fact that one of his Knights essentially told him to go and fuck himself.

\- - - - -

_Okay Arthur. You can do this. You’re King; you can do whatever you want. Right... so... touch him a lot. And ask how his days been. Got it. Let’s do this._

Steeling his resolve, Arthur puts his hand on the handle of door to the chambers Merlin shares with Gaius and pushes it open.

Merlin is sat on at the table not occupied by Gaius’ equipment; his legs wrapped around those of the stool, elbows resting on the table to and back arching perfectly where Merlin’s head is resting in his hands. Arthur wants to say something to alert Merlin to his presence but can’t bring himself  to interrupt the silence, so he simply walks to stand behind Merlin and places his hand on Merlin’s shoulders.

Merlin jumps slightly at the touch, but Arthur rubs small circles onto the base of Merlin’s neck, where his hair curls over his collar, and whispers to Merlin. “There, there,” Arthur croons, applying more pressure with his thumbs, “It’s just me Merlin, just me. You’re so tense. Let me take care of you for once,” Merlin looks like he’s about to protest, but he instead groans when Arthur finds a particularly sensitive spot.

They carry on in this manner for a while, Arthur massaging away the stress in Merlin’s shoulders and mouth endearments to thin air, and Merlin failing to withhold his sounds of pleasure.

\- - - - -

After 30 minutes of Arthur working at Merlin’s neck, Merlin is pliant and boneless, slumping forward against the table like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. Arthur has had to angle his lower body away from Merlin’s because his erection is straining against the laces of his breeches, although honestly, Arthur’s not to blame. It’s all Merlin’s fault and ridiculous pornographic moans that make Arthur want to yank Merlin up the bend him over the table and have his way with him.

Arthur _really_ hopes that Merlin hasn’t somehow acquired the ability to read minds, because as if in reaction to Arthur’s thought, and a delicious looking flush spreads up Merlin’s neck, and it turn out that it is _that_ flush with is Arthurs undoing. No longer able to control himself he moulds himself to Merlin’s back and begins to press kisses along Merlin’s delectable neck.

The effect is instantaneous.

Merlin jerks away as if burnt, turning to face Arthur with a look a combination between shock and anger on his face. ( _And,_ Arthur gleefully remembers later, _sporting a mouth-watering hard-on himself, and wasn’t that a lovely thought, that Arthur had done that to Merlin._ )

“I think you should leave,” Merlin says softly, not quite looking Arthur in the eye, “Please,” he adds when Arthur doesn’t move.

“Merlin... I... “ but Arthur trails off, not sure what to say. He can’t say sorry, because he’s not, but he’s not sure what’s appropriate to say in this situation. Sounding slightly hysterical, even in his own mind, Arthur considers saying some atrocious like ‘whoops, just tripped, sorry’ but knows it not a good idea. “It... it didn’t mean anything?” Arthur offers weakly, and watches as Merlin’s face drops. Wanting to comfort Merlin but knowing he isn’t welcome Arthur walks out of the room, muttering about meetings he must attend.

He thinks he hears Merlin say “Of course it doesn’t mean anything. I’m just your manservant after all,” in a slightly bitter tone of voice, before the door swings shut behind him.

\- - - - -

 

_Week twelve_

Gwen is considering making some sort of tally chart, in order to calculate exactly how many times her husband speaks about Merlin an hour. It would be more logical to have it calculate ‘Number of times Merlin is mentioned, per day’ but she fears she would run out of room, if that was the case.

“He’s late again Guinevere! This is the third time this week, and it’s only Thursday!” Gwen watches Arthur as he paces the length of the room, running his hands through his sandy blonde hair, and sighs.

“Arthur. He’s not your manservant anymore. You do remember that, don’t you?” Arthur turns to her with a startled look on his face , and she realises with a sense of abject horror that he didn’t. “Oh my god. You didn’t. You fired him and you don’t even remember it.”

“I’m not... I’ve been busy!” Arthur defends weakly, now tugging at his hair instead of running his fingers through it, a habit he picked up from Merlin himself. “When did I fire him?”

“Last week,” Gwen says softly, and Arthur remembers then, isn’t sure how he forgot, because it was the day after Arthur had kissed Merlin, and Merlin had mentioned Arthur seeing him as nothing but a manservant, and Arthur had wanted to prove to Merlin that it wasn’t true, hadn’t been true for a while, but instead got caught up in his duties as King and _forgotten he’d fired Merlin._

“But... he’s been coming in! Every day this week he’s come in to clean up after me!” Arthur looks and sounds genuinely confused, so Gwen puts aside her sense of growing disappointment, and goes to stand next to him, placing her hand on his cheek and stroking softly.

“It’s because he knew you wouldn’t do it yourself,” she whispers, “Merlin would do anything for you. You know that.” Arthur presses his face into her hands and nods, eyelids fluttering shut.

“I know,”

\- - - - -

Two days have gone by since their discussion about Merlin, and Gwen and Arthur are seated at the table in their chambers. Merlin is serving them dinner, wearing a big, if slightly forced, smile. He leaves the room with a stiff bow and a muttered “Sire, Guinevere.” The door has only just swug shut when Arthur starts talking.

“Did he seem a bit off to you?” he asks Gwen, chewing on a piece of bread, “Like, upset, maybe? Do you think something’s wrong? What if something happened to his mother?”

“I’m sure everything is fine, Arthur. Hunith’s fine too,” Gwen adds quickly, before he starts panicking about Merlin’s only parent’s health. Arthur frowns slightly, and Gwen sighs internally.

“But how can you be sure Guinevere? What if something _is_ wrong? Maybe I could help somehow,” Arthur starts tapping his fingers against the table, and Gwen grits her teeth. Arthur sits up straight suddenly, as if something has occurred to him, “I bet something’s wrong in Ealdor, and Merlin doesn’t want to bother me with the details. I’ll send some men out first thing in the morning and-“

“Arthur, stop. Nothing is wrong with Merlin. He’s fine. Now for God’s sake, shut up and eat your dinner.”

\- - - - -

Gwen is startled awake by Arthur speaking. At first she thinks he’s speaking to her, and so she sits up in bed and wipes the sleep from her eyes. It isn’t until her eyes adjust to the dim light that Gwen realises Arthur isn’t, in fact, talking to her, but is talking in his sleep. Curious, because she’s never known Arthur to be a sleep talker, Gwen stays sitting up, listening for Arthur to say something else.

After ten minutes she gives it up as a lost cause, and has just laid back down and started dozing when Arthur speaks again.

“Merlin...”

Gwen groans silently in frustration. Of _course_ Arthur would be talking about Merlin. That’s all he talks about during the day; it only makes sense that the same can be said for at night. She pulls a pillow over her head and tries to go to sleep, cursing the day she married a man in love with someone but her.

\- - - - -

In the end, it’s Arthur asking why Merlin was talking to Gwaine that does it, and Gwen storms off on Arthur without explaining why she’s angry. _Good,_ she thinks, _he should be able to work it out._

Without paying attention to where she is going, Gwen somehow ends up in the garden her and Lancelot used to visit, before. She sits among the flowers that bloom and runs her fingers through the long grass, feeling truly peaceful for the first time since she realised Merlin is the one Arthur is in love with, not her.

It’s not that she doubts Arthur’s love for her; it’s a real as her love for him. The lack of love is the not the problem. The problem is that it’s the wrong kind of love, the platonic kind. It used to be more than that, before Gwen met Lancelot and Arthur realised he was head-over-heels for his big eared manservant, before Arthur carried the weight of the Kingdom on his shoulders, and even though she sometimes doubted her affections for him on previous occasions, Gwen could convince herself she was in love with Arthur. In the wake of the recent - and not so recent - developments however, she can no longer lie to herself.

Gwen knows this is the reason she is not angry at Merlin. Any other person in her situation would probably blame him for swaying her husband, perhaps Gwen herself would, if Merlin were anyone other than himself, but Gwen cannot bring herself to feel anything but jealousy and sadness that Merlin and Arthur’s situation could be easily resolved if she were out of the picture, but she will never be reunited with her dear sweet Lancelot, at least not in this lifetime.

Gwen sits in the garden until the sun goes down, and thinks about Arthur. She contemplates leaving him – he would be free to pursue Merlin, and she to try and find love elsewhere – but knows in her heart that she cannot and will not. Camelot needs a Queen, and Gwen will stay in that position until Arthur tells her otherwise. She may not be his lover, but that does not mean she doesn’t love him.

\- - - - -

When it is dark, and Gwen gets back to her and Arthur’s chambers, she finds him sitting at the table where she left him, hair mussed from him playing with in anxiety. He asks no explanation for where she has been, and she doesn’t offer one, and when their eyes meet, Arthur looks like he understands.

As Gwen watches Arthur’s reaction when Merlin enters in the morning, she thinks he just might.

\- - - - -

_Week fifteen_

“Arthur,” the man in question looks up, and smiles when he sees Gwen standing next to the table. The two of them had reached an agreement of sorts, since the not-quite-argument a few weeks ago; Guinevere was still sleeping in their chambers, and they still shared a bed, but they no longer kept up the pretence of a relationship when in them.

“Ah, Guinevere. What can I do for you?” Arthur almost chokes on the soup he is eating – quite a difficult thing to do – when Gwen speaks next.

“Idon’tthinkweshoulddothisanymore,” The words tumble out of Gwen’s mouth, and she repeats them, just in case Arthur didn’t understand. Judging by the expression on his face, he did.

“You don’t want to...” He trails off. “But Camelot needs a Queen!”

“Oh Arthur,” Gwen rests her hand on Arthur head, stroking the blonde hairs, and continues softly, “Camelot doesn’t need a Queen, and neither do you. It’s not fair, what we’re doing, on anyone involved. Can’t you see that?”

The terrible thing is that Arthur _can_ see that. The stress of controlling his desire for Merlin and making sure his marriage seems successful to outsiders, on top of running the Kingdom, is taking its toll on him. He’s not sleeping well, he’s not eating well, and even the Knights are beginning to notice that he isn’t on top form.

It is affecting Guinevere as well, but it is affecting no one as much as it is affecting Merlin. He does not know that Arthur and Gwen are not in a relationship anymore, haven’t been for a while, and whilst Arthur longs to tell him, to tell him _everything,_ Arthur knows he can’t, at least not right now. Not telling Merlin, however, has the unexpected side affect on Arthur of having to watch Merlin waste away in front of him, and yet not being able to do anything to help, it seems.

Every day, Merlin enters Arthur’s chambers a little skinnier than the day before, the circles around his eyes more prominent and the air of depression around him more tangible, and Arthur must sit by and do nothing.

It is with this in mind that Arthur agrees with Gwen – as of this moment, they are officially no longer together and an announcement is to be made at the next feast – and gives her one last hug and kiss.

\- - - - -

Gwen leaves Arthur chambers confident that she has done the right thing. She too has seen Merlin becoming smaller and smaller in both size and presence, and whilst she knows that Camelot _will_ struggle slightly without a King, she is absolutely certain that Camelot would not recover, should something happen to Merlin and Arthur be forced to stand by and let it.

If the only way for her to save Merlin and Arthur from themselves is to sacrifice her place as Queen, then so be it.

\- - - - -

_Week sixteen_

Gwen’s new chambers are on the other side of the castle to Arthurs. It is slightly colder at night than she has been used to the past few months, but aside from that, and the lack another body in her bed, it is no different. Arthur has ensured she has not been left wanting; her bed, whilst not up to the calibre of the King’s, is better than many in the castles. Her clothes are the same one’s she wore when she was Queen, and Arthur has told her repeatedly that all she has to do is ask and more will be made for her, more dresses of resplendent fabrics and decorated with jewels.

Gwen is reading by candlelight when to knock on the door sounds. Perplexed, because apart from her, no one but Arthur and Merlin know the location of her new rooms – and why would either of them be knocking that late? – she heads towards the door and opens it slowly.

At the sight that greets her, Gwen is not sure whether to laugh or to cry, for standing in her doorway, looking as handsome as ever, if slightly underfed, is Sir Lancelot.

\- - - - -

After a few long, drawn out seconds in which Gwen can do nothing but stare blankly, she shrieks and throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing the life out of him.

“You’re here!” She says, incredulously, “You’re alive!” Lancelot nods and makes a strange wheezing sound, at which Gwen realizes she is hugging him far, _far_ too tight and he’s struggling to breath.

After drawing in a long breath, he speaks. “Yes, it appears I am,”

“But... how?” Gwen is pleased that Lancelot is not dead – of course she is – but she is still confused as to how that has occurred, and Lancelot seems to understand that.

“Well, my lady. Why don’t you invite me in, and maybe we’ll find out.”

\- - - - -

As Gwen opens the door to let him in, and steps aside, Lancelot horridly tries to think of a story that would be believable. He certainly couldn’t tell her the truth; that Merlin, after months of searching had found an incantation which would reconnect his body and soul, and had waited until the moon was in the right position to perform the – very dangerous – spell.

_Really,_ he thinks, _this is the sort of thing Merlin and I should have discussed when I awoke, instead of discussing the events which have happened in my absence, including the Guinevere and Arthur relationship and its changes._ Lancelot makes a mental note to hit Merlin over the head with something heavy next time he sees him, try and knock some sense into the man.

\- - - - -

In the end, Lancelot tells Gwen that he had made a deal with the keeper of the gate, and hadn’t actually been made to sacrifice his soul, however, the keeper had kept him for a couple of months, in return, for letting him go. When asked about the deal he made, he hedges slightly, and tell Gwen that one of the conditions was never telling anyone, which Gwen accepts, but Lancelot still has a sour taste in his mouth at the lie.

_Honestly,_ Lancelot thinks as he lies next to Guinevere in bed, watching her sleep peaceful,  you _would have thought that Merlin would have told Arthur about his magic in the time I’ve been gone._

\- - - - -

As Gwen drifts of the sleep, smiling at the fact that her true love is once again laying beside her, she thinks that maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out alright. If only Arthur and Merlin plucked up their courage and _talked_ to each other.

\- - - - -

_Week 18_

The first time it happens, Arthur is vaguely shocked, and thinks that his brain must be playing tricks on him.

Merlin is helping Arthur get dressed – as he had been since Arthur and Gwen had announced their separation – and his hands linger longer than usual when he’s finished. When Merlin is helping Arthur into his breeches, Arthur thinks he feels Merlin’s hands skate along the sides of his legs, but plays it off as his own imagination. The same happens with his tunic; Merlin’s hands linger on the sensitive skin on Arthur’s sides and apply a little pressure, but, once again, Arthur is sure his is making it up. It is not until Merlin has put Arthur’s chainmail on, and is resting his hands on Arthur’s shoulder with his thumbs rubbing little circles into the nape of his neck that Arthur realises Merlin is _flirting_ with him. The realisation makes him feel giddy.

\- - - - -

In retaliation, the next time Arthur goes and visits Merlin in his chambers, he leans over Merlin as he’s working, plastering himself to Merlin’s back and resting his head on Merlin’s shoulder.

“Arthur,” Merlin sighs, “What are you doing?”

“It’s fairly obvious I would say, _Mer_ lin.” Arthur replies, grinning at Merlin’s put-upon expression.

“It’s obvious you’re being an annoying prat,” Merlin mutters under his breath, but a smile sneaks across his face, which fairly ruins his air of irritation, “It’s why you’re doing it that I’m interested in,”

“I’m doing it, because I’m King _Mer_ lin, and as King, I can do whatever I want.” Arthur follows up this statement by placing a kiss on the spot behind Merlin’s ear, and grins smugly against his neck when Merlin inhales a shaky breath. Bolstered by Merlin’s obvious reaction, and the fact that he isn’t telling him to stop, Arthur carries on, pressing kisses along Merlin’s jaw and then down his neck.

After 10 minutes of apply his ministration on Merlin, Arthur himself is hard, his erection pressed up against Merlin’s back. Looking over his shoulder, Arthur can see that Merlin is in the same situation, although his erection is straining against the laces of his breeches. When he see’s Merlin’s hand reaching to undo the laces, Arthur catches is in his own, and Merlin whines in the back of his throat, starting to press back against Arthur. Arthur sucks on last kiss onto the junction between Merlin’s shoulder and neck before stepping back, laughing softly when Merlin frowns at him.

“What are you-“He begins to ask, but Arthur walks away before he’s finished the question, calling a hasty “Gotta go, Kingly duties to do and whatnot!” over his shoulder.

As he walks down the corridor, he hears Merlin shouting “I’ll get you for that, Arthur Pendragon!” after him and smiled. _I’m counting on it._

\- - - - -

After that it becomes a competition between the two of them, to see who can take the flirting furthest, without actually achieving anything.

The day after the incident is Gaius’ rooms, Arthur walks into his chambers and is greeted by the sight of Merlin bent over his table, delectable arse stuck in the air. By the time Arthur has retrieved his jaw from where it has fallen to the floor and managed to convince his brain to form comprehensible words, Merlin has stood up, winked at Arthur and dodged around him, but not before running a hand down his chest and teasing at the top of his trousers.

Two days later, Merlin enters Arthur’s rooms to tidy them, expecting it to be empty, only to find Arthur stretched out naked on the bed, cock in hand and jerking off slowly, as if he’d been waiting for Merlin to show up (which he had). Merlin manages to be slightly more graceful than Arthur had when encountered with Merlin’s backside, but still only manages a stuttered “Erm, uh, terribly sorry to have, um, erm, sorry,” before he hurries out of the room and heads towards the nearest storeroom to get rid of his erection. When he comes, biting down on his knuckles to stop from making any noise, it’s to the image of the smirk on Arthur’s face.

On and on it goes, each of them become more risky as the days pass by – mainly Merlin, because, in all honesty, Arthur was pretty fearless in the first – until, two weeks after they began their battle of wills, it all comes to a head.

\- - - - -

 

_Week twenty_

In the end, it’s something completely and utterly ridiculous that makes Arthur snap; it not even directly linked to Merlin. He’s out walking in the grounds of Camelot when he comes across Gwen and Lance, lying in the grass in a beautiful garden full of flowers and trees, holding hands and talking softly to each other.

Arthur stands watching them for a while, see’s how at ease they are with each other, sees the amount of affection flowing between them, and has a sudden epiphany that _that’s_ what he wants with Merlin, and he wants it now, because as much as he’s enjoying the weird, convoluted dance he and Merlin are doing around each other, he wants them to be together, in every sense of the word.

That in mind, he walks back towards the castle as quickly as is proper for the King to be doing. Halfway there, however, it isn’t quick enough for him, and he breaks into a jog, not particularly caring what anyone thinks, because he’s the King goddamnit, and if he wants run in the castle, he bloody well can.

The door to his rooms slams against the door when he throws it open, and Merlin looks round from where he is making the bed, startled.

“Arthur. What-“ He starts to say, but Arthur will never know the end of the sentence because he takes three long strides until he’s standing in front Merlin and kisses the words from his lips, hands cradling the back of Merlin’s head as he licks at Merlin’s lips. Merlin sighs into Arthur mouth, his hands moving up to clutch at the front of Arthur’s tunic and Arthur takes advantage of Merlin’s parted lips to slip his tongue into his mouth, tasting mint and strawberries and _Merlin_.

Merlin starts sucking on Arthur’s tongue and Arthur groans, the vibration travelling through to Merlin’s mouth and making his moan in response. Arthur starts walking them back towards the bed, but he misjudges the distance and two steps sooner than he expected the back of his legs hit the end of the bed and he falls backwards onto it, Merlin falling on top of him.

“Mmm... this is better,” Merlin says before kissing Arthur again, his hands moving from their position on Arthur’s chest to slide up his top, warm against his stomach. Arthur moves his hands too, slides them down Merlin’s back to grab the bottom of his top and pull it over his head before settling on his arse. He takes advantage of Merlin’s shirtless state to press more kisses into Merlin’s neck.

“What’s your obsession with my neck?” He grumbles good naturedly, before tilting his head to the side to give Arthur more access. Pretty soon, Merlin’s sweaty and panting, pushing his hips down into Arthur’s and grinding their erections together. Arthur gasps against Merlin’s neck, and Merlin pulls his head up by his hair to give him a filthy, open mouthed kiss.

“Stop for a second,” Arthur breathes, putting his hands on Merlin’s hips and stilling them. Merlin pouts at him, bottom lip red and swollen, and Arthur runs his thumb over it. “If you carry on doing that, I’m going to come,” Merlin still doesn’t look appeased, so Arthur carries on, “And I don’t want to do that, until I’m buried to the hilt inside you,”

Merlin’s pupils dilate slightly, and he grins lazily at Arthur before moving his mouth next to Arthur’s ear. “Well, it’s a good job then,” He murmurs thickly, “That _I_ don’t plan on coming until I’m riding you isn’t it?” Arthur gasps at the image, and surges up to kiss Merlin, flipping them over so that he can press him down into the mattress.

“How do you expect to do that when I’ve got clothes on?” He asks, raising his eyebrow. Merlin sits up then, pulling Arthurs tunic over his head before working on the laces of his own breeches. The gesture he makes at Arthur is an impatient, _what are you waiting for?_ Sort of one, and Arthur hurriedly complies, kicking off his boots and pushing his breeches down. By the time he’s finished, Merlin’s reclining back on Arthur pillow, pale skin standing out against the Pendragon red.

Arthur leans back over to kiss Merlin, one hand holding the side of his face, the other blindly searching the table next to his bed for the pot of lube he _knows_ is there. When he finds it he grins against Merlin’s mouth, and feels his answering smile. Quickly slicking up one of his fingers, Arthur trails his hand down Merlin’s stomach, around his cock and balls and over his perineum before pressing lightly against his hole.

Merlin spreads his legs in invitation and Arthur presses in past the ring of muscle, gasping at the tightness around his finger.

“Have you ever done this before?” He asks breathily, and Merlin nods.

“A couple of times. With Will,” Arthur would like to be surprised, but he’s always suspected that Will and Merlin were more than friend, so he just murmurs a quiet ‘Okay,’ and carries on kissing Merlin.

After a couple of minutes Arthur works another finger in, and then another. By this point, Merlin is gasping and moaning, grinding his hips and pushing down against Arthur’s hand, back arching when Arthur touches his prostate.

“Flip us over,” He pants, squirming around Arthur’s fingers. “I want to ride you remember?” He clarifies, when Arthur looks at him in askance.

Arthur hurries to comply, pulling his fingers free from Merlin before moving to sit leant up against the headboard, and helping Merlin rearrange himself so that he’s straddling Arthur. Arthur’s breath stutters when Merlin slicks his cock with the lubricant, the cool liquid on his hot flesh. Merlin rests his hands on Arthur’s chest and rises up of his knee’s before slowly sinking down on Arthur’s cock, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he feels the burn of himself being stretched open. Arthur leans forward and sucks the bottom lip into his mouth, groaning when he feels Merlin clenching around him.

They move together in a jerky, uncoordinated rhythm for a couple of minutes, mouths open against each other; not kissing, exactly, but breathing harshly into each other’s mouths. When Arthur feels that familiar tightening of the know in the bottom of his stomach the signals to him he’s close, he moves one of his hands from where they had settled on Merlin’s thighs and wraps it around his cock, jerking him in time to his movements on Arthur’s cock, wanting Merlin to come before him, _needing_ Merlin to come before him.

Arthur watches, slightly in awe of how _beautiful_  Merlin is when he comes, back arched, thighs quivering and mouth open in a silent scream. He thinks he sees Merlin’s eyes flash gold, but plays it off as a trick of the light, and at that moment Merlin clenching around him becomes too much and Arthur throws his head back as he spills himself inside Merlin.

\- - - - -

Arthur hasn’t come out of his post-sex haze when Merlin gets off him, and Arthur feels a brief stab of panic that all Merlin wanted was a quick shag. His fears are proved unfounded, however, when Merlin returns with a warm, wet cloth and washes them both down before climbing into bed beside Arthur and pulling the covers over them.

“Night,” He yawns sleepily, resting his head on Arthur’s shoulder and throwing an arm over his chest and a leg between his. “Love you,” he mumbles as his eyes drift closed.

Arthur swallows thickly, lost for words for a moment, before he too murmurs “Love you,” and his heart clenches painfully at the way Merlin smiles at the pronouncement, even though he’s half asleep.

It’s after he’s been watching Merlin sleep for a couple of minutes that Arthur realises it’s the middle of the day and he actually had things he had planned to do, thank you very much, but he supposes that can wait for another day, because at this moment in time, he’s currently fascinated by Merlin’s eyelashes, and the way his lips flutter as he breathes.

\- - - - -

_Epilogue, Week forty-eight_

Arthur first decides that he wants to marry Merlin, regardless of silly things like laws – hey, he’s King, he can do what he wants – one month after they officially get together. Arthur is stressing out about an upcoming ride out he and the Knights have to embark on, and Merlin is lying on Arthur’s bed – “No.” Arthur corrects himself, “Our bed,” – attempting to get Arthur to abandon his plans and come and join him when Arthur suddenly realises, _I want Merlin to wear my mother’s ring._

He knows, however, that Merlin would never agree to it, because he worries endlessly about how the Kingdom would react to having _two_ Kings, even though it’s no secret in Camelot that Arthur and Merlin are together, and no one seems particularly bothered. If they _are_ bothered, they certainly aren’t saying anything, so Arthur really doesn’t see what the issue is. He puts the idea of marriage out of his head anyway, for the time being.

_\- - - - -_

This happens repeatedly over the course on the next six months. Arthur keeps noticing things he had never realised about Merlin before – the way he hair curls over his ears, the smile on his face he only wears for Gaius, how he does anything he can to help anyone he can – and almost _aches_  with the desire to officially make Merlin _his_. For Merlin’s sake, though, he pushes the thought to the back of his mind.

After six months, however, Arthur starts making plans. Arthur has noticed, over the course of the last couple of weeks that Merlin has become more relaxed in public, and around other people. Up until this point, Merlin had always been quite reserved when he and Arthur were in company – always making sure there is at least three inches of space between them, never touching, despite the fact that everyone is aware they are a couple – but in the past couple of weeks, he has been less strict about the rules he had set. Arthur considers this to be a good sign, a sign that Merlin would, possibly, be open to the idea of marriage. So, with a little help from Gwen, Lancelot and Gwaine, Arthur plans the perfect way to ask Merlin to marry him.

\- - - - -

Much to his surprise, Arthur never gets to put his plan into action, because Merlin gets there first.

The day Merlin asks is a fairly nice one – the sun is shining, the birds are chirping – and Arthur and Merlin are eating dinner in their chamber when Arthur notices that Merlin is acting a lot jumpier than usual.

“Honestly _Mer_ lin, what’s wrong with you today? You’re acting like a frightened rabbit,” The sharpness in his tone is belied by the affectionate smile he shoots at Merlin as he places a hand on Merlin’s knee to stop its infernal jiggling.

“I know I just... I....”

“You what, Merlin? Spit it out,” Arthur’s breath catches in his throat when instead of replying, Merlin slides out of his chair onto one knee.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” Merlin admits, blushing, “And I’m probably going to mess it up, but here goes,” he takes a deep breath, and carries on, “When I came to Camelot, we didn’t exactly get off to the best of starts-“

Arthur chuckles quietly in agreement, and smiles when Merlin frowns at him slightly disapprovingly, “Sorry, sorry, carry on,”

“Right. As I was saying, we didn’t exactly get off to the best start, but then – god knows why – I saved your life and was made your manservant. That was four years ago now. We’ve been through a lot, in the last four years, and, along the way somewhere, I fell in love with you. Seeing you with Gwen... they were the worst couple of months of my life, but... somehow, you fell in love with me too, and I don’t want to spend my life with anyone else. So, King Arthur Pendragon. Will you marry me?”

Arthur had barely finished nodding when he had a lap full of Merlin whispering “Thank fuck for that,” against his lips.

\- - - - -

It starts slowly, so slowly that Arthur doesn’t realise it until it is too late to change what has happened. It creeps up on him, much like ivy creeps across the stone of Camelot’s castle. Of _his_ castle, for Arthur is King now, no longer a Prince. He carries the weight of Camelot on his shoulders, and it is a weight he is proud to bear. Now, however, he does not have to bear it alone. He shares the load with Merlin, wonderful sweet Merlin, with his too long limbs, his too big ears and his too blue eyes, who loves Arthur with his whole heart and Arthur loves in return. Being King is difficult, but Arthur wouldn’t change it for the world.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to say, that I haven't actually watched Season Four, so any references to events might be wrong, which I apoligise for.
> 
> I also completely made up how Merlin brings Lancelot back :3 I'm planning on doing a fic from Merlin's POV though, so it will be explained further in there.


End file.
